Dignity
by miss skinny love
Summary: So this is how Regulus loses his brother. Before breakfast on a Saturday.


_dignity_

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a gift!fic for Kitty Kat ("roseusvortex")

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Regulus dusted off his robe sleeves and straightened his tie. Composure, he told himself, is paramount. Satisfied, he sent one last look at himself in the mirror, and then exited the bathroom. He walked in measured steps, head held high. Fellow Slytherins either ignored him or acknowledged him with a shallow dip of their heads, their own robes as impeccable as his. As a House, they oozed dignity, and commanded attention.

The common room hosted a dozen Slytherins in various positions — sitting on the couches or talking quietly in small groups. He ignored them, and headed for the portrait.

He pushed through, and then looked left and right, assuring himself that his exit had gone unseen. It wouldn't do for the other Houses to know where Slytherin's House was.

His shoes ghosted across the floor as he made his way to breakfast. It was early — about ten minutes too early — but he enjoyed the leisure of choosing his seat on his own terms.

The staircases were behaving themselves today, and he smiled grimly as he descended. The time he had nearly tumbled down them had taught him to pay attention to his surroundings.

Maybe that's why he knew something was wrong as he stepped off the last step, shoes resting on the castle floor.

Maybe that's why he grasped for his wand, and looked around warily. And it was a good thing he did.

"Look … a Slytherin. This rare, exotic creature is well-known for traveling in packs and cheating other creatures out of their well-earned spoils. This particular Slytherin must be diseased, to travel all by his lonesome," James Potter said, his voice loud and grand. His eyes glittered.

Pettigrew — on the right to Potter — sniggered. "Good one, James."

Regulus' lip curled. "Gryffindors. Creatures destined for the slaughterhouse, no doubt."  
His eyes kept straying to the left of Potter. Lupin stood there, gripping a book and with his eyes downcast. And there, just in front of Lupin … his brother. His brother didn't look at him. Sirius' eyes were trained on Potter, as if Regulus didn't even exist. The notion made Regulus' free hand curl into a fist, and his wand hand tighten, ready to flick out a spell.

"Brother," he said levelly. His tongue ached to whisper a curse — _anything_ that would make Sirius acknowledge him.

Sirius didn't even flinch. "No brother of mine."

Regulus reeled inwardly. It was so like his brother, he thought dimly, to deny blood for the brave. "Is that so?" Regulus said, his words slippery and dark like oil. "You have no brother?" Maybe it was something in his tone, but Sirius finally lifted his eyes to look at Regulus.

"My brother wouldn't be a Dark Wizard," Sirius said boldly. Potter smiled, as if proud.

Regulus' jaw tightened. "My brother wouldn't be so _fucking_ idiotic. He wouldn't abandon me for his blood-traitor friends, or for his closed-minded prejudices. He wouldn't deny me before everyone else. He would remember Reg, the boy he used to sing to sleep when our parents were roaring at each other like the lions you so love." He was saying too much — this was private — but he couldn't stand that look of disgust in Sirius' eyes.

"Don't call them blood-traitors," Sirius said, eyes flashing as he leaned forward.

Lupin's hand darted out and curled around Sirius' bicep. "Don't," he said simply.

Regulus' mouth twisted a bit. Everything he'd reminded Sirius of — and what he focused on was the wording? He'd lost his brother … just because of a House in a school? Because some Hat shouted out Slytherin?

He ground his teeth. Enough of this undignified grovelling. If Sirius clung so tightly to his lion friends in place of his own brother … very well. Regulus didn't need Sirius. He was fourteen years old and he'd spent too many years trying to lure back a sibling that clearly scorned him. Too many years wasted. Too many years being cursed at and shouted at.

"No brother of mine," he agreed with a deep sense of finality. His lips felt numb, almost. His stomach was too full of nausea and discomfort.

Sirius stilled. He seemed a little surprised. Had he expected Regulus to chase after him forever? It didn't matter. Regulus had already turned to leave. He was walking away from them, shoulders set and head held high. This was bravery beyond even Gryffindors — to walk away from enemies, your back open. Still. His tongue was heavy with a defensive spell, and his body ready to duck.

He needn't have prepared.

Evans' voice rang out. "I can't believe my own eyes. Four so-called Gryffindors against a single Slytherin — "

" — we weren't going to do anything — " Potter protested.

Regulus turned his head to observe, but he kept on walking — a slow, leisurely pace.

"Oh?" Evans said testily, wand held loosely between her fingers. "Then tell me, Potter, why you had your wand pointing straight towards Mr Black?"

"You know Slytherins," Potter said, his voice whiny and pleading.

"Yeah," Pettigrew jumped in. "James was just defending us."

"Not another word. You lot are a bunch of righteous bullies, and it's sickening," Evans said, and then her feet pounded down the hallway.

She was coming his way, Regulus registered. His feet sped up. He had no desire to interact with any other Gryffindors.

"Wait," she called as he turned the corner. He didn't want to run — his dignity was in tatters already— so it came as no surprise to him that the older girl caught up to him.

"Hi," she said softly. Her eyes were big and so was her hair, and she was staring at him as he kept up a brisk pace. "Are you alright?" she asked, and then shook her head a little. She pocketed her wand. "I'm sorry. Of course not." She hesitated. "I heard the last bit there — about you having no brother. Do you want to talk about it?"  
"No," he said shortly. "And even if I did — I assure you, I do not — it wouldn't be any of your business."

"You're right." She nodded. "It isn't my business. That doesn't mean I don't want to help."  
"And how would you help?" he asked, despite his inclination to keep quiet. "You can't do anything. Of course, this is unsurprising considering your blood status … or lack thereof." His words were vicious and ruthless, designed to hurt.

He saw her eyes darken and her mouth thin. She breathed in deeply, visibly. "Not that it's any excuse, but you're hurt and angry, and you're striking out. I can understand that. You just lost your brother — "

" _I_ didn't lose anything," he growled out, halting his brisk walk.

She stopped beside him. "Yes, you did," she said levelly. "I lost a sibling, too. My sister," she said quietly.

"Did I ask for your pathetic life story?"

"No. I chose to tell you that, so that you know you're not alone — "

"I have Slytherin House. I am not alone." His jaw burned from clenching down too hard.

"But you are," she said quietly, "or else you would have called me mudblood, or cursed me. Anything to get rid of me. But you need me here — anyone here, really — and on some level you know that." She softened. Her green eyes were open and sincere. She was the very picture of Gryffindor sincerity.

It disgusted him. "Did you think that maybe I haven't done any of that because you're not even worth it?"

"Regulus — "

"Don't call me Regulus, Evans — "

"I'm sorry about your brother."  
Grief slipped its hands around his neck and slowly squeezed. "So am I," he said softly. Abruptly, all his energy dwindled. Sirius.

Fuck. He was really gone, wasn't he? In a way that was somehow worse than death, like a starving man chained to his chair at a feast … able to see, but never to touch.

"It'll be alright," she soothed. She rested a hand on his arm. He didn't shake her off. He still felt weak, and nauseous, and now grief was washing away the anger, like acid destroys flesh —

No. It wouldn't be alright. There was no dignity in losing his brother like this.

All he'd ever needed was dignity.


End file.
